


bleed

by mousewritings



Series: one-word prompt drabbles [19]
Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, angsttttttttt, minor descriptions of blood, ok but to be fair it's not as angsty as the summary makes it out to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousewritings/pseuds/mousewritings
Summary: Flynn’s not so much accident-prone as he is oblivious to his own need for self-preservation. It’s honestly a miracle that he hasn’t derezzed or come to any grievous harm.Until.
Relationships: Kevin Flynn & Tron, Kevin Flynn/Tron
Series: one-word prompt drabbles [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948030
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	bleed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [what it means to bleed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692108) by [quantum27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantum27/pseuds/quantum27). 



> prompt is from @theunamazingauthor on tumblr

Flynn’s not so much accident-prone as he is oblivious to his own need for self-preservation. He crashes lightcycles, uses unstable equipment, runs headfirst into swarms of gridbugs without taking even a second to wonder, “Is this a good idea? Will I die if I do this? Am I really willing to risk my life and age Tron several hundred cycles by being so reckless with my own existence?” (But Tron has to admit—if Kevin Flynn bothered to ask himself these questions, then he probably wouldn’t be Kevin Flynn.) It’s honestly a miracle that Flynn hasn’t derezzed or come to any grievous harm.

Until.

Of all the things to finally injure Kevin Flynn, it’s “paper” in a “book.” He’d wanted to test textures on the Grid, see if he could get the pages to attach correctly, get anything legible at all. And when he’d constructed it, finally gotten the code just right, he’d whooped, shoved it in Tron’s face, yelled, “Look at this, man!” and flipped through it with a sort of manic excitement before his finger caught on one of the pages and split.

Now his excitement is still palpable—almost contagious, really—but the cut’s put a bit of a damper on the atmosphere. At least for Tron. Flynn’s still grinning and rambling about the book, but at least he’s sitting still.

Tron just listens. He keeps his touch light as he grips Flynn’s wrist, Flynn’s hand palm-up, and pulls it into his lap. He has the patch in his hand already, but he pauses to stare at the cut. Red—a small amount, something Flynn had decided was “nothing to worry about”—gathers where the page bit him. Flynn’s explained blood to him before (vaguely, immediately after Tron asked what one of his weird phrases meant) but this is the first time he’s seen it in person. He’s grateful, in a strange way, that he hasn’t had to see it in greater amounts than this.

He realizes that Flynn’s stopped talking. He looks away, sees Flynn glancing at him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Seriously, man,” Flynn says, his grin deceptively easy. “It’s fine. It’s just a papercut. Happens to everyone.”

It’s not his place to question. But he sighs as he places the patch over the cut, and he looks at Flynn sternly. Much more sternly than he’s ever been able to muster around him. Flynn flinches a little under his gaze.

“Flynn, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m supposed to protect you from harm. It’s literally what I was written to do. And I can’t do that if you keep putting yourself in danger for no discernible reason.”

Flynn’s grin shifts—picking up that this is more than about the papercut, probably—and snorts. “I _have_ my reasons, Tron,” he says, dismissive. “And you’re doing a great job of taking care of me already. It’s fine.”

Tron drops his gaze, looks contemplatively at the patch. He understands that a “papercut” is a relatively minor injury. He has no problem grasping that. But if Flynn sustains an injury worse than this—if the red that spills from his body is anything significantly more than what he saw today—then there’s nothing Tron can do to help. He doesn’t know how Flynn’s body functions. No one on the Grid does. And the extent of Tron’s medical knowledge starts and ends with putting a patch over bad code. (He doesn’t even know if it’ll _work_ on a User.) Flynn’s mortality is beyond his programming, something almost unthinkable besides _I can protect him, I can cheat it_. And if he can’t? If he _fails_ —

There’s no simple way to tell Flynn all this, and he fears that he’s overstepped already. He gently runs his thumb over the patch instead.

Flynn shifts his hand so their palms are flush together, their fingers intertwining. Tron glances at him, meets his gaze, and the way Flynn looks back at him—soft, almost apologetic—nearly makes Tron forgive him.

“I’ll be fine, Tron,” he says. “Trust me.”

Tron doesn’t have much choice, honestly. But he sighs again, grips Flynn’s hand a little tighter, and says, “All right.”


End file.
